


I Want You All of the Time and This Is So New

by Kye_Kreole



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bratva Oliver Queen, Drinking, Light Angst, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smut, The other legends are here, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kye_Kreole/pseuds/Kye_Kreole
Summary: An anachronism appears and it involves one Oliver Queen.John is the only logical choice to fix it.





	I Want You All of the Time and This Is So New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halzbarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halzbarry/gifts).



> Dedicated to Mike who also beta'd because he's just that awesome.

An alarm rang out through the Waverider drawing the Legends to the control room.

“Gideon,” Sara called out, leaning over the central console. “What seems to be the problem?”

“ _ I’ve detected a rather large anachronism that would have detrimental effects on the timeline and especially upon all members of the team present. _ ”

The team looked at each other, eyes wide and postures stiffening.

“What is it, Gideon?” Sara asked.

“ _ Russia, October 5th, 2012, _ ” Gideon recited. “ _ It would appear a certain green-hooded vigilante has decided not to return to Starling City and begin an impressive manhunt upon the corrupt rich. _ ”

“Oliver,” Ray whispered.

“He stayed in Russia?” Sara clarified.

“ _ Correct _ ,” Gideon said.

“Why would he do that?” Nate asked no one in particular.

“That doesn’t matter,” Sara said, pushing away from the console. “What matters is we need to make sure he leaves.”

“How?” Zari asked.

“I’ll just go and have a quick forceful chat,” Sara answered. 

“Except he thinks you’re dead,” Ray reminded her.

“Then I’ll wipe his memory after.”

“Won’t that make him forget he needs to leave?” Mick asked then gulped down a beer.

Sara stopped. Right.

“Then Ray,” she considered.

“He hasn’t met me yet,” Ray said. “He hasn’t met any of us yet. He wouldn’t trust any of us.”

“Actually,” John piped up, “he and I have met.”

Everyone turned their gaze to him. He was pulling a cigarette from his pocket and was about to light it when he noticed his audience. 

“It was only brief,” he insisted. “A little quest of mine that he helped with.”

“So he trusts you?” Wally asked. 

“Well,” John considered, lighting his cigarette, “trust is a strong word.”

“Whatever,” Sara said. “Would you be able to convince him to leave Russia?”

“I suppose-” John started.

“Perfect,” Sara interrupted. “Gideon, get us to Russia 2012.”

“ _ Right away, Captain Lance _ .”

* * *

Oliver sat at the bar. His new  _ bratva _ tattoo still hurt and itched. He swallowed a shot of vodka and set the glass down. He looked around the small room, seeing the celebrating Russians laughing and drinking. Anatoli had left an hour ago, saying goodbye as he dropped a packet of condoms and lube at Oliver’s elbow; a not so subtle hint as to how he thinks Oliver should celebrate their victory.

He smiled at the thought. Anatoli. The friendship forged in hardship and solidified by blood. It would be nice to stay where he was wanted. Where he wasn’t dead. Where he could fit in and the people around him could understand in part what he had gone through.

He gestured for a refill and raised the glass in a silent cheer.

“To moving forward,” he whispered and tipped the glass back into his mouth.

“More like standing still,” a vaguely familiar British voice said.

Oliver turned and saw John Constantine standing next to him. His shirt and tie disheveled just like the last time they’d seen each other, though now he wore a beige trench coat over it. He had an unlit cigarette in his smirking mouth and he leaned against the bar, accentuating his fit form. 

“Says the man who never stops moving,” Oliver countered. “What are you doing here, John.”

“Oh I was in the neighborhood and heard about a bow-wielding American,” John said, raising a lighter to the cigarette. “I wasn’t sure if it could be my bow-wielding American so I thought it would be good to check.”

John blew a mouthful of smoke to the side then smiled at him. Oliver gestured to the bartender who refilled his glass.

“Well, now you know,” Oliver said and gulped down the shot. “And I didn’t call for any favors so see ya later.”

John chuckled and took another drag of the cigarette. 

“Maybe I need another favor, mate,” John said. Oliver looked over and studied him.

His body language appeared casual, leaning against the bar, smirk plain as day, head tilted back. Except his gaze was focused, intent on Oliver. He needed a favor, yes, but he was being cautious about how he asked for it.

“What is it then?” Oliver asked, looking away.

“What are you still doing here?” John asked.

“What?”

“Why are you still in Russia, mate?” John clarified. “Last I saw you, you were pretty intent on going back to Starling and a certain brunette.”

Oliver turned to stare at him. John wasn’t looking at Oliver. In fact, he was looking anywhere but at him.

“Things have changed,” Oliver said, chugging down another shot.

“I can see that,” John responded sardonically. He tossed the cigarette butt into an ashtray and waved the smoke around him away. “Why?”

Oliver looked down at his empty glass. Thoughts, memories, dreams swam through his mind. So many dead bodies. So many people hurt. He’d changed so much over the past five years. How could he ever think to go back to Starling?

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” he grumbled. Another shot.

John looked at him carefully. Oliver kept his face neutral. He could thank Amanda Waller for that particular skill. He saw John’s gaze shift to the condom and lube still on the counter. He smirked.

“Got plans for the evening?” John asked suggestively.

“Not yet.”

John raised an eyebrow and there was suddenly a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh?” He moved closer to Oliver that he could smell the smoke lingering on his breath. “Maybe I can help?”

Oliver turned to stare in shock. Was he suggesting they…? There wasn’t a trace of falsehood in John’s expression. 

Oliver was about to reject his offer when he noticed John lick his lips. The dim light of the bar gave them a little shine and Oliver felt the rejection die on his lips.

“You’re not spelling me, right?” he asked instead.

“Trust me, mate,” John said. “If I was ‘spelling you,’ you wouldn’t be asking that.”

Oliver couldn’t really argue, but he still hesitated.

“I’m all about consent,” John continued. “I’ve dealt with enough demonic possessions to appreciate the power of free will. Especially when it comes to sex.”

Oliver looked down to the condoms and lube then back to John. He gestured to the bartend and asked for a room key in Russian. The man gave him a look, then shrugged and brought one over. 

“Let’s go.” Oliver downed his last shot and stood up from the barstool. The grin on John’s face was devilish. He tucked his hands in his pockets and followed Oliver to the stairs and up to small rooms upstairs. 

Oliver unlocked the door and pulled John in by his tie, slamming the door shut behind them. Oliver pulled him closer with the tie and began to forcefully kiss him. John returned the kiss with just as much ferocity, grabbing Oliver’s shirt and grinding their hips together.

They moaned into each other’s mouths, tongues darting out and licking inside. Oliver shoved John against the nearest wall, his body slamming. John moaned, loving the manhandling.

“Yes,” John moaned. “Just like that.”

Oliver ducked to bite and suck on John’s neck, his hands pulling at the trenchcoat. John took the hint and worked it off, all the while pushing his hips forward. Oliver licked the forming bruise and moved to the other side.

John grabbed Oliver’s hair with one hand while the other reached down and around to Oliver’s ass, pulling it forward so their hips were pressed together.

“There it is,” John whispered. Oliver couldn’t agree more. The hard grip on his long hair, his bulging crotch pressed against John’s equally tented pants, the taste of skin, sweat and cigarette smoke, it was all so intoxicating. 

How had they not done this before?

Once Oliver was satisfied with the hickey’s forming on John’s neck, he pulled up and tugged at his shirt, ripping the buttons off. John moved to grab the tie, but Oliver stopped him.

“Leave it,” he ordered. 

John’s eyes darkened as he nodded and he pulled off his open shirt. Oliver yanked his own shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. John grabbed his face and pulled him back in for another hungry kiss. Oliver slammed his hands on the wall beside John’s body and used his own to press John into the wall from head to toe. 

John moaned and ran his hands down Oliver’s muscled and scarred chest, feeling each defined ab and each healed scar. Then his hands went to Oliver’s pants and began unbuttoning them.

Oliver pulled away and grabbed the tie, pulling John toward the bed. John smiled followed, willingly being shoved onto the bed.

“Pants off,” Oliver growled. “Now.”

“Yes, sir,” John said cheekily, undoing his pants and shoving them down along with his boxers.

Oliver pulled the condoms and lube from his pocket and tossed them onto the bed and quickly pushed his pants and underwear down. He looked down to yank off his boots and pull his pants from his ankles.

When he looked up he saw John on his hands and knees, back arched, ass facing him and spread open. His mouth watered at the sight. He’d tasted John before. What would his ass taste like?

He got on the bed and grabbed John’s ass, spreading it wider. 

“Now be gentle, mate. It’s been a min-ahh!”

Oliver shoved his face between the cheeks and began licking vigorously. 

“Fuck, yes, Oliver,” John shouted. “That’s how you prepare an arse.”

He reached back and grabbed Oliver’s hair, shoving him even more. Oliver licked up and down and around. He loved the taste. He’d always wondered if it tasted would taste good and now he knew. Why had he waited so long to try it?

“Come on, Oliver,” John groaned and pushed against his head.

Oliver chuckled and rubbed his scruffy chin against John’s hairy ass. Before John could complain, Oliver stuck out his tongue and started working into his hole. He was sure his family in Starling could hear the appreciative moan that came from John’s mouth. His grip on Oliver’s hair tightened and Oliver pushed farther in.

“God, how did we wait this long to do this?” John babbled. Oliver just groaned in agreement, circling his tongue on the soft muscles inside.

Once spit was dripping from his chin, Oliver shifted a little to allow a finger to join his tongue. John’s moans were incomprehensible though Oliver thought he heard some Latin mixed with British expletives.

Oliver worked the hole, quickly getting his finger all the way in, then he added another. John rocked his hips a little and it made the bed squeak under them. As soon as both his fingers and his tongue fit comfortably, Oliver reached for the lube. He pulled his fingers out and somehow got three of them covered with his tongue still inside.

“Bullocks,” John cursed. “Why’d you do that, Ol-oooh.” 

His question dissolved into moans as Oliver shoved three lubed up fingers in next to his tired tongue. He slowly removed his tongue and focused on opening him up with his fingers while his other hand searched for the condom packets.

John’s hand let go of Oliver’s hair and his moans were suddenly muffled. Oliver looked up and saw his face was shoved into a pillow, his hands gripped the sheets and allowing him to push back and fuck himself on Oliver’s fingers. 

Oliver chuckled and grabbed a packet and tore it open. He rolled it onto his aching cock and bit back his moans at the touch. He grabbed the lube and quickly poured it on his cock and tossed it to the side. He covered his cock with lube. 

“Please tell me that the reason I’m doing all the work is that you’re getting ready to put your cock in my arse,” John said, face turned to the side. “Because if not, we need to have a serious chat about your fingering skills.”

Oliver laughed and pulled his fingers out. He spread John’s legs more so he could position himself properly.

“Thank the angels,” John muttered.

Oliver lined his cock up and pushed in, going slow but still impatiently. Once he was completely inside, he took a moment to breathe, trying not to cum at the heat around his cock.

“I’m ready when you are mate,” John assured in a slightly mocking tone.

Oliver growled and pulled out to thrust back in quickly. And hard.

“Bloody hell.” John moved his hands so that he had leverage on the bed. 

Oliver reached forward and grabbed the tie still around John’s neck. He adjusted it so that he had the knot in his hand. John’s head is thrown back making his back flex and arch, making Oliver’s mouth water at the sight. John’s moans encouraged him to thrust faster and harder, his hips slapping John’s ass loudly.

“Where have you been every time I needed a good, hard fuck?” John asked, using his hands to push back. 

Oliver leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Waiting for you to show up and ask.”

He watched John’s eyes roll up and close, his mouth gaping with a silent moan. He tugged the tie a little and straightened up. He grabbed John’s hip with his other hand and started to really pound into his ass.

“Fuck, yes!” John shouted and a string of unintelligible Latin followed.

“God, John,” Oliver said, panting, “you really like it rough, huh?”

“No better way,” John replied. He gripped the sheets and pushed back hard and fast matching Oliver for each thrust.

“Bite me,” John commanded.

“What?” Oliver asked, his focus starting to get hazy in the scent of sex and cigarettes.

“Bite me, you sod,” John repeated louder. “I’m close.”

Oliver was too, so he leaned forward and bit his muscled shoulder, trying not to draw blood but wanting to leave a mark.

“ _ Christus futuo _ ,” John shouted. Oliver felt his body tense and shudder with his orgasm. His ass tightened around Oliver’s cock and he fucked quickly into the tight heat, coming in a few hard thrusts.

They both collapsed, Oliver’s body seeming to smother John’s on the bed. Their breathing was loud and labored in the small room. Oliver carefully pushed off and out of John and rolled onto his back next to him. They laid there while their breathing calmed and the sweat cooled their hot skin. 

“Fuck, that was great,” Oliver whispered.

John chuckled and sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from Oliver.

“I would have to agree with you there, mate,” he said, adjusting his tie and looking around for his clothes. 

“You in a rush?” Oliver asked, watching him as he stood and started pulling on his clothes.

“Places to go, demons to hunt,” John replied. “And you’ve got to get ready to go back home.”

“Why?” Oliver asked, exasperated at the thought.

“Because you could do your city some good,” John said, turning to look him directly in the eyes. 

His sincere and earnest tone caught Oliver off guard. Could he do good? Oliver?

John’s expression softened as he sighed. He buttoned his pants and pulled on his shirt, muttering a spell to fix the buttons. He sat on the bed as he pulled on his shoes.

Oliver watched. John sat on the bed, hands grabbing the sheets and head bowed down.

“Go home, Oliver,” he said quietly. “Your city needs you.”

He stood and grabbed his coat, and without looking back, walked out of the room.

Oliver stared after for a moment. He thought about what John said. His city needed him. He remembered the promise he made to his father, to right his wrongs. He thought about Laurel, how he’d wronged her, betrayed her.

He needed to make it alright again.

He fell asleep alone, but with plans for the future swirling in his head.

* * *

John returned to the Waverider. He wasn’t in a good mood, considering he’d had a fantastic fuck with an attractive man.

Sara seemed to notice he didn’t have his usual swagger.

“How’d it go?” she asked cautiously.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

She opened her mouth as if to question him further but stopped herself, shook her head and turned to the main console.

“Gideon, how’s the timeline looking?”

“ _ Everything seems to be in perfect order, captain. Oliver Queen was found by Chinese fishermen that had sailed out farther than normal hoping to gain a larger catch and returned to Starling City in October of 2012. _ ”

“Perfect,” Sara said. 

The rest of the Legends dispersed to their corners of the ship, but Sara turned to study John who was slouched against a wall.

“You did good,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied. Even he could hear that he didn’t believe it.

“Get some rest,” Sara suggested softly, then left him alone.

John waited, feeling numb inside for some reason.

Then suddenly, he felt a stabbing pain in his head and an image flashed across his vision. Oliver over him, pounding into him in a high-tech bunker. The same one he’d restored Sara’s soul in.

_ “Why did we wait so long?” John asked, his head thrown back on the table. _

_ “I don’t know, but I’ve missed you, John,” Oliver panted as he thrust harder. _

_ “I missed you too, mate,” John answered, reaching up to grab his tie that was around Oliver’s neck. He pulled him down and kissed him hungrily. _

The scene faded as did the pain. 

“Gideon, what just happened?” he asked lowering his hand from his head.

“ _ I’m not quite sure. Though if I were to guess, I would say you experienced a memory change _ .”

“What?”

“ _ Due to your new presence in the timeline, an event you already experienced has been altered. You suddenly gained the new memories as a result _ .”

Oh. So because he’d had sex with Oliver in Russia, they’d fucked again after John restored Sara’s soul.

John smirked.

“Well now,” he muttered to himself. He straightened and left the control room, heading for the jump ship.

Maybe he could take a quick trip to present-day Star City and visit an old friend.


End file.
